


Fireside

by ShunRenDan



Category: Persona 4, Persona Series
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domestic Smuff, Domestic smut, F/M, sometimes you just need to show some love., yu treats his wife, yukiko treats her man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:41:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29031834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShunRenDan/pseuds/ShunRenDan
Summary: Yukiko was a little weird, sometimes unexpectedly prudish, and he was the only one of them that could (sort of) cook, but he loved her. It was all he could do to oblige her.That was his mantra.He repeated it whenever he broke an egg making her breakfast. He repeated it whenever he kissed her on the forehead, or when he pulled her into bed at night to quiet her busy hands. It wasn’t the obligation he repeated, but the truth of the matter and the one thing he hoped she’d never forget.
Relationships: Amagi Yukiko & Narukami Yu, Amagi Yukiko/Narukami Yu, Amagi Yukiko/Persona 4 Protagonist, Amagi Yukiko/Seta Souji
Kudos: 11





	Fireside

The deep, russet golds of the autumn gave way to a wet, dreary winter before Yu Narukami knew it. Guests became less and less frequent at the inn, though the few regulars who still filtered in the door began staying longer and longer to avoid the bitter chill of the cold outside. Inaba always fell in on itself in the winter, visited by fewer and fewer tourists to be impressed by the town’s novelty.

Something about the rural countryside made the winter weather even less convenient for any passing city-folk, not that Yu minded.

It was nice to get some time to himself, spend some time with Yukiko, enjoy the warmth of the hot springs on cold nights. He liked video chatting with Yusuke from the comfort of his couch, and some days, he even enjoyed walking Nanako to school despite her protests.

Winter turned Yu Narukami into a family man. It warmed his already warm heart and reduced the chilly distance of small town politics to a memory. For Yukiko, on the other hand, winter had a different effect.

Some people liked winter because it brought the onset of sweater weather.

With Yukiko, who always dressed so formally, that was hardly the case. Instead of sweater weather, her attention lingered elsewhere; it hovered on Yu in the moments between, whenever she could get her hands on him… well, they weren’t likely to come off.

Usually bashful, Yukiko became much more willing to dally in the winter.

Yu remembered their first winter together, how shy she’d been just to ask for a cuddling, and how different she’d been the winter after that. How quick her hands found his hair, how her fingers trailed down his chest… how she left him breathless and starless in the bed, or standing agape in the broom closet.

It must have had something to do with the solitude. With the rest of their class graduated and gone on to bigger and better places, only Yu and Yukiko were left behind to rule Inaba in their stead. In the dead of winter, that loneliness grew more and more apparent, and Yu couldn’t blame her for needing to dismiss it somehow.

She was a little weird, sometimes unexpectedly prudish, and he was the only one of them that could (sort of) cook, but he loved her. It was all he could do to oblige her.

That was his mantra.

He repeated it whenever he broke an egg making her breakfast. He repeated it whenever he kissed her on the forehead, or when he pulled her into bed at night to quiet her busy hands. It wasn’t the obligation he repeated, but the truth of the matter and the one thing he hoped she’d never forget.

“I love you,” he whispered into her hair, the night before their anniversary, aware that the day ahead was supposed to be a grand one.

It began simply: he prepared her a nice breakfast, greeted her with the voices of her friends via phone call while she ate, and made sure that all the business around the inn was handled while she went out to take care of some unrelated errands. 

There were a few complications, of course. The restaurant they booked for dinner wound up bouncing their reservation, and so Yu Narukami fed his wife a hastily made ham sandwich for dinner. He forgot to buy the wine, and so he let her drink from the bottle Dojima got him a year prior for finally being old enough to drink it anywhere on the planet. 

A bird landed on her head during her shopping trip. Nanako was sick, and missed school, leaving him constantly on edge…

And yet, when he kissed her at the end of the night, none of that mattered.

Yu Narukami took his wife’s chin between his fingers at the base of their bed, her lips with his — they felt so full, buzzed like amaretto — and her hands in his hands. Together, they danced in front of the bed as if the music playing from the den were loud enough to make any sense, and together, they fell into the bed laughing.

Yukiko landed on top of him with a swirling, girlish laugh, and Yu, his blazer long discarded and his only defense a black tie over a white, collared shirt, knew he was defenseless from the start.

“Oh no,” he pleaded. “I’m defenseless. My wife has fallen on top of me. Please, somebody help.”

“You don’t sound as if you need help,” she tutted.

“Well, I do.”

“Need help?”

“Only if it’s you.”

Yukiko blushed furiously.

“Oh, stop,” she laughed.

Yu kissed her again, this time peppering her forehead with a slew of little, gentle pecks that he hoped reminded her just how strongly he felt about her. “Nah.”

Yukiko buried her head into his shoulder to hide herself, but Yu kept going. He littered her with brief, flurrious kisses that trailed from the edge of one ear to the borders of another, and when she rolled off of him to hide, he clambered over her back so that he could pin her to the mattress.

He ran his fingers over the silk of her kimono. On it, flowers, red blossoms, white poplar. It felt smooth to the touch, but it paled in comparison to the softness of her skin and the warmth beating in her chest.

“Hey, don’t run from me,” Yu pouted.

“Ib bot rubbing,” Yukiko protested, her face buried in her pillow.

“Oh yeah?”

With her husband straddling her back, Yukiko nodded.

“Lemme see your face then.”

“Bo.”

“Why not?”

She tilted her head, just slightly. Just enough for him to see that she was pouting.

“You’re gonna kiss it.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Yu eased up so that she could roll over… and then kissed her the second she settled in. Yukiko laughed and went to shove him away, playfully, but Yu just kept going. He listened to her giggle as his lips trailed down from hers to find the borders of her chin and the expanse of her neck. His hands traced over the silk of her kimono and dipped beneath it after gently undoing what held it in place.

It was only then that Yukiko blushed. She averted her eyes while Yu gazed down at her, marveled as always by the sheer beauty of the woman beneath him. The sight of his wife — clothed or not — always left him breathless. She was so beautiful, such a heartstopper… that beauty, coupled with her wit and strange charm, was enough to bring any man to his knees.

Yu Narukami was intimately familiar with that knowledge.

Lips pressed like autumn leaves against her neck, Yu whispered little affirmations as quietly as he could to remind her of just that.

“You’re so beautiful, Yukiko,” he said.

“So sweet, so smart.”

“You work so hard.”

His lips had raked down toward her tummy when she stopped him with a pair of hands on his shoulders. He glanced up to her face with a lift of the head and a tilt of the chin.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I…”

Her face was flush. He could see little beads of sweat pooling against her forehead, matting her hair. Something about intimacy always left her steaming, almost literally. It was like the possibility of seeing Yu Narukami naked set her on fire. He couldn’t blame her. He was, after all, the most handsome man in the world. Top three, at least.

“You always do this sort of thing for me,” she whispered. “You’re always taking care of me. Making sure I’m happy. Cleaning up. Cooking. You even prepare my bath, some nights. Is it okay if… Can’t I take care of you, this time?”

Yu blinked.

“Take care of me?”

A knuckle curled against her chin. Her other hand covered her face, as if she could hide the blush there from the man who literally waited with his head on her stomach.

“Yes,” she said. “Like you do for me.”

It took him a second to process what she meant, and when he understood, Yu Narukami gasped in surprise. “Oh, you want to…?”

“Yes. Please.”

A little concerned, but otherwise grateful, Yu nodded.

“Oh! Sure. I mean, you can, if you want. Should I just…?”

“Yes, please.”

Yu rolled off of her and onto his back, while Yukiko gathered herself and clambered to the edge of the bed. She beckoned him forward, kimono open, and gestured for him to sit on the bed’s edge before her. Still beet red, she let the fabric slip from her shoulders and dropped to her knees in front of him, her beautiful, black hair a curtain around her face. With a quiet huff, she made sure to pull that hair back behind her shoulders, and then went about the daunting task of undoing her husband’s belt buckle.

Yu swallowed back a ball of apprehension when it finally popped off. He could feel the warmth of her fingers through the fabric of his jeans when she undid his zipper, and with a long, slow pull, split his slacks to reveal the boxers beneath. He’d been wearing a kimono earlier in the evening, over-formal and over-dressed, and now he felt so exposed that he wondered how Yukiko ever dealt with it.

Her fingers fanned out over his manhood through the fabric of his underwear, warmer than the sun above. He leaned back over the bed and covered his face with his hands while she waited between his legs.

Yukiko whispered something inaudible from that spot, her fingers gently tracing the outline of his already stiff masculinity. She could feel every inch, see it through the cloth, and by the time she freed it, she still swore it managed to grow a half-inch more. Yu Narukami was stiffer than a board, and the rest of his body equally taut.

She saw every day how that pressure built up in him. Evening after evening, he helped her relieve her stress, and she could only imagine how that pressure built up in him. Well, more accurately, she no longer needed to imagine — she could see it at her fingertips.

He pulsed and throbbed beneath even the most gentle touch. The entirety of his being twitched when she took him into the warmth of her hand with a single, gentle stroke. She wasn’t used to... 

She didn’t need to be…

Steeling herself, Yukiko gently stroked with her wrist, strafing the length of his shaft while she watched him squirm beneath her touch. He must have seen her react in the same ways over a hundred times, but seeing him so helpless beneath her administrations was a different sensation than the one she was used to. She was used to being the vulnerable one, reduced to rubble from a flick of the tongue or a swirl of the finger.

She watched him wriggle and shake when she brought the base of her other hand to the base of his shaft, so that she could more firmly handle the work being done to his tip. The curled edges of her fingers played and ran over his head, gently building up the restless ball of lightning that now bristled between his legs.

Yukiko swore she heard him whimper.

Blushing redder than before, she proceeded on with her task, gently building speed to stoke that restlessness even more. It wasn’t long before he was thrusting upward into her hand, but she put a stop to that with a single, stern  _ shush _ . He continued to buck his hips, less than before, but more urgently, powered by the lust in his heart and the beautiful woman between his legs.

When she felt he could take it no more, she hazarded a guess at what to do next. His legs went stiff the moment before she took him into her mouth, letting the edges of his head pass through the borders of her full, pink lips. It was then that Yu Narukami exploded with a violent, all encompassing shudder.

His hands fell down into her hair and her lips rolled down his shaft all the way to the base. She gagged, choked, and felt the shockwave that rippled through her husband’s body. 

Yu bucked and brayed, offset by the sensation of her throat closing around his cock like a vice. Gasps spilled out from his lips like ink, a name lingering on the air with every lost breath.

“Yukiko,” he gasped.

He bit back the urge to swear as his fists clenched in her hair to shove her downward as far as he could. 

“Yukiko, Yukikoyukiko, hey, I’m—”

He bit his lip and the grunt that followed cut him off from any semblance of reasonable wordplay.

Every groan was meant to warn her of the explosion to come. It was a buildup of pressure that burst him at the seams, stoked by the ministrations of his dutiful wife and her cursed lips.

Yukiko, for her part, managed to look him in the face without blinking, unsurprised by the uncouth reaction to such a thing. She merely watched, her lips around his manhood, and waited until he was done. Once the last of the wave had been ridden out, she leaned back onto her knees.

With her fingers still splayed against his thighs, Yukiko lifted her head.

And then swallowed.

Yu frozen and watched her face well up with a strange, proud smile. Her hair was a mess, her mascara was now running down the sides of her face, but she was still glowing to him.

Breathless, he pulled her up onto the bed with him and flipped her onto her back. Yukiko let out a playful squeal in reply, caught off guard by the sudden roughness her husband put her into the sheets with. She was giggling up until the moment his lips found her neck, and then laughing after that, caught so off guard by the way his kisses trailed down from her neck to her shoulders, then down further to her chest.

By then, her kimono was gone, discarded on the floor, and he was starting to pull out of his shirt. His fingers worked at the buttons until she could help him slip it from her shoulders, and then they cast his pants aside too — leaving their clothes together in a mutual pile. Her bra found its way to the ground next, followed by a pair of light, pink panties that met the wall.

The giggling only subsided when Yu Narukami positioned himself between her legs. He splayed her thighs with both hands and tended to her with care, his tongue gently lapping at her bud while she wriggled against the sheets. Every lick and stroke settled her until, inch by inch, she melted against the bed frame. The fingers of her right hand lost themselves somewhere in the mess of his silvery, white hair, but her teeth bit down on the edge of her left index knuckle.

Yu Narukami loved seeing her fall to pieces like that. Yukiko was so bashful in the day, but so unabashedly honest in bed. It was a beautiful contrast. It reminded him of the bright, white stars that prickled against the black sky outside of their bedroom window, and the way stark clouds burned across the daylit horizon.

Yukiko was more beautiful than either, and as her thighs squeezed down on either side of his head, he couldn’t help but to remember that.

“Yu,” she breathed.

“Please. Just… Can we…?”

Yu Narukami grinned and pressed a firm, rough kiss to his wife’s inner thigh. Then, proud and tall, he rose between her legs so that he could brace himself at her entrance. Yukiko guarded her face with a forearm, hesitant to look — but Yu pulled it aside so that he could stare his wife in the eyes.

“Hey, look at me,” he instructed. “It’s okay. We’re married. You don’t need to be afraid of seeing me.”

Her face scorched a deep, bright red, Yukiko listened. She turned to face Yu and looped her arms around his neck while his buried themselves in the sheets at each side of her. Her legs loosely lapped his waist, and with his manhood braced against her heat, she felt as if she were burning up.

“Do you love me?” He asked.

“Of course I do!”

“Tell me you love me,” he teased.

“I love you,” she said, resisting the urge to look away again.

Yu smiled.

“I love you too, Yukiko.”

Taken by the moment, Yu Narukami pushed inside. The sensation was immediately enough to bring any lesser man to his knees; Yukiko was so  _ warm  _ and so  _ hot _ , so tight. Making love with her felt like piercing heaven with a sword’s tip, and basking in the sunlight it spread. It rendered them both young again, and reminded him of days spent trying not to stare at the face now flushed beneath him.

Now, in the confines of their bedroom, backlit by dim lamplight, he stared as much as he could. He memorized every wrinkle in her lip while she bit down on it — and then took them with his own so that he could feel her mouth flush against his.

Below, he thrust in and withdrew in a steady rhythm, quietly building speed while Yukiko groaned. She ripped her lips away from his to let out a high, not-so-subtle whimper, which Yu repaid with a lip-to-neck burial. He massaged her skin with his lips, leaving little nips, bites, and kisses on the way to her earlobe. There, he listened to the way she fell apart beneath his touch, her fingers tightening in his hair.

Flesh met flesh.

Heat met heat.

Love met love.

Yu Narukami continued at his own pace, savoring every pant and stranded breath. Yukiko’s fingers contracted and relaxed with his rhythm, squeezing strands of his hair while he served the tide. Her fingers surfed down across the swell of his biceps, traveled over the flat of his pectorals, and met the sea-foam of sweat curling across his shoulders. Yu Narukami was a man made of marble, and his entire body, hardened by the rigors of their youth, was a wonderland of scars and sinew. 

Yukiko traveled over that expanse finger by finger until Yu fell forward, his face sinking into the gap between her breasts so that she could cradle him in her chest. His lips nipped and played at the ends of her pert, pink nipples, his tongue slashing at the bud of the flowers he worshiped so often — and then he was thrusting faster, harder than before, his body pressed to hers like letters to parchment.

Each desperate thrust burned a little of his soul into hers. She could hear his heart beating through his mouth, feel her own pumping in her ears, and as the itch in her gut built into a fever pitch, she understood exactly how he felt. It was a strange and surreal connection, one that she wouldn’t have traded for the world.

“Yu, I’m…”

“Me too, Yukiko,” he managed, his words broken by a sputter of an engine reaching the zenith of its performance. Yu’s fingers wrapped themselves around her waist as his back arched, forcing hers to buck in turn.

And then the two of them exploded together. 

Yukiko’s legs clenched hard around his waist as the flood began. The ball of tightened lightning that stretched up and down her spine before detonated and unspooled with a single, breathy moan that split the space between her ears. Yu responded in kind, his every word a fumbled, flailing attempt at decency — and in the moment his face collapsed into her breast, Yukiko felt him come undone.

Together, the two of them breathed. Yu rolled to the left, exhausted, his head a comet against his pillowcase. Yukiko stared up at the ceiling, her body a sweat-covered mess, her hair pooled against the bed. She couldn’t feel her legs anymore. Something about the way Yu Narukami enjoyed her, the way he pleased and teased her… there was something so sweet that it always made the payoff worthwhile.

Not that she would  _ ever _ be so lewd as to tell him that.

“That was nice,” Yu understated, still equally breathless.

“It was.”

For a moment, the two of them stared up at the ceiling in a mutually understood, mutually spent silence. There was, surely, no gas left in the tank for either of them.

And yet…

Yu turned to her, his face possessed by a mischievous curiosity that Yukiko already understood from his days as a schoolyard troublemaker. She rolled her eyes in advance.

“Wanna go again?”


End file.
